


Failures

by SlytherinSweetheart1



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: BDSMvibes, Control, Episode: s01e18 Solitudes, F/M, Porn Battle, Power Play, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-14 16:45:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16044458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinSweetheart1/pseuds/SlytherinSweetheart1
Summary: After Antartica, Sam has to learn how to deal with failure for the first time."I need to be punished." she blurted out, hands tightly clasped in front of her. She looked like a school girl who was about to be chastised, so Jack understood where his imagination had come up with that comment.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [professortennant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [professortennant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant) in the [FandomRevival](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FandomRevival) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>   
> 
> Sam gives control over to Jack + calls him 'Sir' + BDSM vibes

His leg was broken, he was freezing cold, and Samantha Carter was looking at him like he had broken that leg kicking her puppy. 

"Come in, Carter." Jack said, moving to let her in through his front door. He manoeuvred on the crutches with furious distain. The things were frustrating, making it impossible to walk with a beer in hand and were a hinderance more than a help. With Carter following behind him, Jack ambled his way back to the couch. 

Carter sat next to him, said nothing for some time, then jumped up to pace. The early afternoon sun filled the room with glowing light, making her tussled hair glow. Jack realised that he mostly thought the sun shone out of Carter's ass, these days, and he had to have a word with himself about that sort of behaviour. Once he was done wallowing his injury away. 

"I need to be punished." she blurted out, hands tightly clasped in front of her. She looked like a school girl who was about to be chastised, so Jack understood where his imagination had come up with that comment. 

"I don't think I heard you right." He said.

"I need to be punished, Sir." She repeated. Ah. If he had been drinking that beer, Jack was sure he would have choked. He would be dead then and missing the opportunity to untangle this puzzle. He had, of course, played this part before. Jack certainly had a type, strong, smart, A-type personalities. Women who ruled households or businesses with an iron fist, and then, sometimes, wanted to mewl in pain and pleasure as Jack held them down with a fistful of blond hair, or his teeth, or bent them and hurt them over a desk. Berlin. Seoul. Stateside. Sara was the exception; she liked rough sex, but nothing much more than that. Still, Jack _understood_. 

Samantha Carter, dressed in a green blouse over a long denim skirt, wearing shoes Jack knew were something other than sandals but looked like sandals, had been radiating nervous energy until she had spoken. He could see that she was now determined to convince him. 

"Why?"

"I failed. I had never failed before. I'd been wrong, sure, many times, but I could fix things. I had never *failed* before. There is no fixing this. The answer was simple, I wasn't good enough, and I nearly killed you."

"Ah. And how long have you been beating yourself up over this?"

"Since we got back, Sir."

"So, what? You want me to spank you?" He asked. Jack wanted his voice to be somewhere between supportive and nonchalant, but his tone bordered on incredulous. 

"I think so, Sir." She continued to pace. 

"Sit, Carter."

She obeyed, sitting down next to him, her hands smoothing over the pleats in her skirt in a nervous motion he had not seen her use before. 

"How is this affecting you?" Jack asked. There was a fine line between helping a lover disengage through some impact play and abusing the trust of a subordinate officer. He could be up for charges for just having this conversation, but a part of him understood her better since Antartica. He had seen her determination and he knew if he didn't look after her now, someone else would. 

"I am having trouble sleeping. I can't concentrate." She said. 

"Have you done this before?" Jack asked, but he knew she had not. If she could have trusted Hanson with this, she would not have broken the engagement. 

"No, Sir." Sam said, her eyes on her hands. 

"And this is sexual for you?" He could see that she was startled at that, as if it had not occurred to her that it could be about anything other than sex. 

"Oh! Um. I think so, Sir." She said, blushing, miserable in her shame.  

"That is important to know, Carter, because there should always be aftercare, and aftercare is different for everyone, and it depends on whether you want to come or not."

"I have, um, read about it, Sir." This may have been the least romantic and yet strangely intimate moment Jack had experienced. Both of them, staring straight ahead, having a wretched conversation because they needed to go through the practicalities of something she had tried to instigate months ago while under the influence of the virus. 

"Good. Do you have a safeword?"

"I think.. um. Bagels." 

That made Jack snort. He reached over for her, taking her hand in his, and guided her across his lap. She submitted readily, falling into place. Her stomach and head to his left, and angled strangely until she reached for a cushion to support her self. Her legs and silly shoes to his right. The cast on his leg was now even more of a bother because he couldn't do this over the back of the table or against the bed. Still, he thought, if she didn't want to have sex, then, perhaps being away from the bed was the better option. 

"Ok, Captain. You say 'Bagels' if you want me to stop. We will discuss what had happened so far, and we can re-adjust impact, intensity, or anything else you need. Do you understand?" As he spoke, Jack stroked her, his hand gentle from the nape of her neck to the curve of her calf. The green silk soft and catching on the calluses of his fingers, the denim skirt heavy across her backside. 

"Yes, Sir."

Jack's next stroke along her back was shorter, from mid shoulder to mid thigh, lingering across her bottom. 

"I need to establish a baseline. When I strike you, you need to tell me how much it hurts, from 1 to 10." His hands continued to meander from waist to thigh. Carter's body was tight and tense. "I may need to undress you. Is that ok?"

"Yes, Sir." She said. 

The first time he hit her, she cried out in surprise. Her body rocked forward and she braced her hands against the arm rest. Jack waited, one minute, two, three. His hands stroked her, the left gentling across her hair, the right resting across her buttocks. 

"Score, Carter?" He asked. She had forgotten to answer, he realised. 

"Two. Sir." She said. Jack hit her again, palm open against the other buttock, a little bit harder. She made the same noise, like a gasp. A few seconds, and then she said, "Three, Sir."

He struck the same spot and the moment she said "Four." he hit the same spot again. "Si-ix." Her voice broke the word into two syllables. Jack rubbed the spot, easing the sting. Her breathing became harsh.

Each time he struck her, she would yelp on the exhale and then sharply inhale through her teeth. Her body would bounce against his, and Jack realised that for the second time she was about to feel him grow hard against her body.

He tried to pace it. This wasn't about him, or his pleasure. When they got to "Seven." Jack slowed down. He alternated more often, gentling down to "Five" and then the sound of his palm striking denim was replaced by the sound of Jack pushing the skirt up to uncover her underwear.

Pale, blue, cotton panties covered round and firm buttocks, bright red from his ministrations. Jack hit her again, and the feel of her underwear was far more welcome than the denim. The heat of her against his palm, as he stroked the enflamed skin, was also a reward. She continued to pant and he continued to hit her. 

He knew when the pain shifted to arousal as Carter unconsciously ground her hips into his lap and spread her legs wider to accomodate him. He also knew that she was not ready for that kind of aftercare. Jack struck her, again and again, bringing her to "Eight" and then he instructed her to remove her underwear. He expected her to say no, use her safeword, and leave. 

Instead, Carter reached to help him push her knickers down and off. Her full weight rested on his lap, her knees apart, her core exposed. Jack could smell her, would always know the scent of her now. 

He caressed her buttocks, palming at them, and then slapping each lightly. His strikes changed from hard but slow, to soft and fast, allowing the sting of each to build upon them. He wanted so desperately to touch her and see if she was wet, but that was not on the agenda for today. 

When her hand flew to intercept his strike, Jack pinned it to the small of her back, using it as leverage to make her arch her back and better position her ass. Each stroke after that was "Nine." until Jack had to place his left elbow into the middle of her back to control her squirming. 

Each slap now was the full force of his right hand, the sound of it filled the room. Carter's harsh breathing only broken by her cries. Her left hand held on to the arm rest of the couch, her right tucked and pinned by his, and each time she bounced Jack wondered how her nipples would feel if he pinched them. 

Pain wasn't the only goal here, emotional catharsis came from the intimacy, but the pain was necessary too. 

At "Ten" she begged him to stop. "No, Sir!" and "Please! Please, Sir!". He continued to hit her, the fleshy red skin of her buttocks receiving firm quick strikes, and the hits against the more muscled parts of her upper thighs moderated and controlled. 

The pleas quickly turned into sobs, until she was crying fully, openly, into the cushion. Jack hit her again, once, twice, and then patted her gently and slowly, until he was sure the sting of the pain was gone. He pulled her into his lap, stroking her arms, shoulders, hugging her to him. Sam threw herself into his embrace, crying into his shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." she sobbed. 

"Shhh, Sam, you're ok. It's ok." Jack whispered into her hair, and rocked her gently. 

For the better part of twenty minutes, Sam cried, and was held. Eventually, she faced him, and laughed at the absurdity of it all. 

"Well done, Samantha." Jack said, his hand stroking her face. She turned into the touch, like a cat. 

"Sir. I. Uh."

"None of that, Sam. Go get the chocolate ice cream out of the fridge, and let me tell you about aftercare." 

She obeyed, and Jack took the opportunity to readjust himself. When she sat back down, they sat thigh to thigh, two spoons and a pint of chocolate chip fudge ice cream between them. 

"How do you feel?" He asked her. 

"Sore. Better. I can't believe I cried." She said, grinning again. 

"Well. That's the point. You should either cry or come." Jack said, the smirk curling his words. 

"Next time?" Sam said, flashing her big bright smile at him. 

Jack took another spoonful of chocolate and promised himself that next time, he wouldn't be constrained by cast or common sense. 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After they lose the program, and he is no longer her CO, Carter visits Jack again.

When Jack opens his door to her a second time in the space of a week, Sam is holding up a bottle of tequila. She looks sure of herself, her smile stretches on for eternity, and just the glimpse of her bra through the soft - almost sheer - sweater makes Jack go half hard. 

She follows his lead inside. Some weeks ago, she had mewled and cried as he spanked her in this very room, his hand lingering on her perfect round cheeks, and his erection grinding into her lap. On this very couch. They didn't speak about it afterwards, and if Jack caught himself looking at her a little bit longer from time to time, a man couldn't be blamed for it. He was glad, somewhat bizarrely, that at least the Tinman version of him also knew exactly where that little mole was. 

A part of Jack wonders if she was back for the same reason, needing to process something; perhaps the loss of the program. Except everything had changed now, not just because he was no longer her CO, but, if Daniel was anything other than the delusional space monkey Jack accused him of, there was a reality in which he and Sam were engaged. _Engaged._  

Jack hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. He's still thinking about it when Sam pushes him to sit on the couch. He thinks he must be hallucinating, because she's astride him then, the hem of her skirt rising up and up over an expanse of milky thigh. 

"Here to make amends?" Jack asks, and is startled by her laughter. And then, by her mouth. Her kiss is demanding, soft lips nibbling and biting on his, her mouth open and instant. "What do I need to make amends for, Jack?" she asks, lips pressed against the side of his mouth, then at his jaw, then nibbling along his neck. A man could get used to this, Jack thinks. 

"Nnothing." He says, to the feel of her grinding into his hips. He nudges her nose with his, guides her to straighten so that he can kiss her properly. Share her breath and taste the sunshine that she seems to embody. 

And that's how they stay, battling each other to kiss the skin left exposed by clothing, Jack's hands resting on her thighs, fingers just on the verge of pushing up the skirt. This isn't what happened after Antartica, he realises. This is something different, and for the first time since Sara, Jack lets himself really feel the warmth and radiance of another person as Sam continues to explore his body with her hands and mouth. 

In contrast, Jack's behaviour is almost demure; he doesn't want to push her beyond what she is comfortable. But, he realises, even in this, Samantha Carter is nothing but exceptional. Jack slides his hand over her torso, to finally, finally, feel the weight of her breast. 

"Wonderful." He whispers into her mouth. "You're wonderful." and is pleased to see her beam at him, her smile unguarded. He rewards that smile by dipping his mouth to her throat, and at her gasp, bites gently at her neck. Jack knows that he desperately wants to leave some sort of permanent mark, as she seems to be leaving on him. 

"What are you thinking about?" Sam asks, and while that was the absolute mood breaker in any relationship, the fact that this brilliant woman is interested somehow pleases him. 

"Engaged?" he says, voice light with laughter. 

"First let's see how you do, old man." Sam says, her hands reaching for his belt. 

"Is that how it is?!" Jack demands, feigning offence, mostly distracted by her fingers. 

Sam slides to her knees, and then, one, two, three, manoeuvres and Jack is lifting his hips to allow her to pull down his jeans and boxers. 

She seems genuinely delighted to see him spring from the constrains of the clothing, hard, large, and her "oh boy, I may need two hands" comment fills Jack with a ridiculous male pride. He was tall, things were in proportion, and really, she didn't need to praise him and yet, her wet pink tongue darts out to lick at the precum leaking at just the sight of her. 

Samantha Carter takes him in her mouth. She seems to moan and mewl around him, the sound of it vibrating through his body. Each time her head bobs, she rocks forward, and Jack realises that she has one of her hands between her legs. Sam sucks him and touches herself, and he struggles to concentrate, desperate to memorise this sight. Her hair, blonde, disheveled, a bruise on her neck where he had made his mark, her clothing askew, the reality that she was touching herself as she rocked forward on her knees with his cock in her mouth. 

"That is the single most erotic thing I have ever seen." he says. "the sight of my cock between your pink lips."

"Does it turn you on, Samantha? Are you touching yourself? Are you wet?" His voice is low, his words each punctuated with her increased movements. 

Jack lifts his hips, his body tightening, and at that, Sam looks up. Their eyes meet, and he knows her, in that instant. 

"I am going to come, Samantha. Should i come into your mouth or on your breasts?" She doesn't answer and Jack moves to push her off, but the hand on his cock tightens, and then her mouth tightens too, and now she is moving faster and sucking stronger and at the end of each upward movement, she runs her tongue over the sensitive head. 

"So that's it. You want me to come in your mouth? Will you swallow it?" He asks, the words hanging heavy between them. 

"Will you come on your fingers if I spill myself inside of you?" She makes some sort of strangled sound at that, and it's enough to send Jack over the edge. She continues to suck, gently, as he comes. 

When he is spent, Jack realises she is still touching herself. He slips out of her lips with a soft pop, her mouth instantly going to kiss at the expanse of skin at his hip. 

"Swallow. Every. Drop." he says, and her movements become frantic.

"Can you taste me in your mouth? How long is the taste going to linger? Will you need to slip to your knees for me again?" At that, she freezes, followed by a shudder and a keening cry Jack wants to hear again.

When she moves to straighten, Jack pulls her to him and kisses her. 

"Well, if we get stationed away from each other, at least we know the phone sex is good." She says when they move apart, and laughs. 

Until she walked in, Jack realises, he had felt he was losing everything. 

 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they finish saving the world, all is left is to save themselves.

"You bit me." he says into her hair, pinning her to his front door. He stands at her back, his chest and thighs pushing her against the door, his hands splayed at either side of her head.

The night had set by the time she had gone home, and they are now shrouded in darkness. His teeth are at her ear, and they close, gently, over the flesh. Jack tugs and the arousal rushes through her, potent and strong.

“Sir. We can’t.” Sam says, but her knees already feel week and the press of his body and the door is all that is holding her upright.

“What happened to ‘Jack’?” he asks, kissing at her neck.

“Sir. The program is live again.” Sam says, turning to face him. The danger of his mouth is now so close and so inviting. If she kisses him, she will want everything; not just the sex, but breakfast, and sharing laundry, and fights over peanut butter. Barriers, limits, safe words. Maybe with those in place they can survive the fire they flirt with.

“Ah.” Jack says on the exhale and bodily pushes away from her. His voice cooler and more restrained. “What do you want, Captain?” he asks, hand going to rub the nape of his neck.

"I want you to make me feel safe" Sam says, and hopes that he can understand the need she cannot voice. She can see in his face the moment he gets it. This is more of the same power play as they had engaged in after Antartica. Rational rather than the light brief foray into sex and friendship that they had experienced after the program had been canceled.

Sam remembers everything they did in the brief days during which Jack O’Neill was not her CO. She will always mourn the tactile and loving meander of his hands, and mouth, and the care with which he ran the washcloth over her back and buttocks in the shower. They’d slept, tangled in his sheets, and had coffee and sex at dawn on the deck.

She had begun to hope for a future, and it was gone now, choked by regulation. The Earth was safe, but Sam knew her heart would never be safe again.

“Bagels, it is.” He says, referring to her post Antarctica safe word.

Sam nods, and suspects her eyes may be brimming with unshed tears. She can’t speak.

"Go inside. Undress. Stand facing the bed." He orders, his voice heavy with command. Sam obeys, she always does.

The path to his bedroom is paved with arousal and trepidation. The sight of his bed, made with precision, in which she had awoken days ago, but now would never be welcome to in quite the same way fills her with dread. This is a terrible idea. How would she ever be able to un-love him.

Her hands feel heavy as she peels of her clothes. Pulls the straps down and shimmies out of the dress. Sam wonders if she is meant to stand there in her underwear, or does he expect her to be nude. She doesn't get to really decide, as he is already behind her, hands trailing down her back. His fingers snap at her bra, and the cups slide off her breasts.

“Have you been tied up before?” Jack asks. She remembers looking into his eyes as he entered her the first time, and now the coldness of his voice is a contrast to the heat of his fingers against her skin.

“No.” Sam says.

“No, Sir.” Jack corrects her, and she inhales deeply. Barriers. They could play and they could have sex, but walls, there would always be walls between them now.

“No, Sir.” Sam repeats.

“Put your hands behind your back.” he orders, and she feels cool silk against her wrists when she obeys. His fingers are nimble, and her wrists secured within moments.

“Open your legs for me.” Jack says, and Sam inhales deeply. His words feel like they are burning her. Branding her.

She steps shoulder width apart, all of her thoughts of their lost romance forgotten with the arousal that settles in her bones.

Jack walks around her, fingers brushing against her breasts, cool and inspecting down her back, trailing over her buttocks.

The Colonel sits on the bed, and then reaches for her thighs, lifting her and pulling her onto his lap. He is fully dressed, and she is wearing nothing but wet underwear, the contrast stark and startling.

“When you are here, when your hands are bound behind your back like this, you are mine. Mine to use.” He says, fingers in her hair, pulling her head to expose her neck. He runs the stubble of his chin across her neck, leaving a trail of angry, red fire on her skin.

“You. Are. Mine. To. Protect.” He says, and she believes him.

“Sir.” Sam breaths. Her body is thrumming with anticipation.

Jack’s fingers pinch at her nipples, the movement startling and forcing Sam to cry out in pain. She feels each tug as if a line is connecting her breasts and her clitoris, both pain and pleasure warring with each other.

Jack pushes her back, and then, he is above her, pulling off her sodden underwear, tossing it aside. Her hands are awkwardly pressing into her lower back, but she won’t say no to him tonight.

Roughly, he pushes her over onto her front, the impact jarring as her face is pressed into the mattress.

She can feel Jack crawling over her body, settling astride her thighs. He smacks her bottom lightly, enough to sting and orders “Get your ass up, sweetheart”. He knows she cannot comply, not with her hands tied behind her back, and Sam can hear him chuckling as he places a hand across her belly and lifts her, pushing the pillow underneath her stomach.

Jack nudges her legs apart and Sam can hear him unbuckling his belt.

Everything about his motions is different to their lovemaking. Tactile and luxurious has become dark and raw, and yet, Sam thinks if he doesn’t enter her she may *die*.

“Ask for it.” Jack rasps, the head of his cock brushing against her wet entrance.

“Please fuck me.” Sam says without skipping a beat. There is no shame between them.

“Condom or no condom?” He asks, which surprises her, because they had made love with no condom, and discussed their recent clear test results and her long term contraceptives just days ago.

She wonders if she had hurt him, or if he was also just trying to put barriers in place.

“No condom, plea—ESE.” She says, her words broken by his thrusts.

Jack fucks her like he hates her. Like he loves her. Like they never saved the Earth, and all is left is this movement of skin against skin.

Sam keens, and moans, her face pushed agains the mattress. Jack pulls on her bound wrists to stop the force of the movement from pushing her into the headboard face first, each thrust followed by the pain of restraint.

Her orgasm is fast, intense, and Sam screams until Jack puts a hand over her mouth to quite her.

His grip everywhere is bruising, his weight collapsed on her, her hands numb and sore in their restraints between them. Jack holds her, hisarms tight like vices over her shoulders as he drives himself into her. When he comes, it is around a mouthful of skin, his teeth sunk deep into her shoulder.

Sam lies there, naked, and feels boneless. Jack pushes off her, and returns from the bathroom with a washcloth. The languid calm settles in after the violence of their coupling as he gently washes the wetness between her legs.

“There is some bleeding.” he remarks, sounding contrite. But Sam is unfazed. “It happens at that angle, sometimes.” she says, face seeking out the coolness of the pillows as he unties her.

Jack rubs her wrists, hands arm and gentle, and Sam closes her eyes. She moves her head to his lap when he sits down at the edge of the bed, and then, bliss; the Colonel’s fingers in her hair. Safe.

She’s safe, the Earth is safe. The program is active again, and while they can’t have breakfast and love, they can have this.

Sam sleeps. 


End file.
